


Meeting at the Gates

by junko



Series: Scatter and Howl [7]
Category: Bleach
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-18
Updated: 2015-02-18
Packaged: 2018-03-13 16:41:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3388832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junko/pseuds/junko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In an attempt to get things sorted for Byakuya's birthday, Renji has several unusual meetings....</p>
            </blockquote>





	Meeting at the Gates

Well before lunchtime, Renji had not only finished all the routine work but had been so bored that he’d also organized his desk and cleaned the break room, even scrubbing the sink and sweeping the floors. When he found himself alphabetizing the collection of board games, he stopped. “Screw it, I’m going out for an early lunch. I’m taking an extra hour,” he informed the Fifth Seat. “I’ll make it up, but I have some personal errands to run.”

The Fifth Seat who looked busy, but Renji knew for a fact was composing a letter to a younger sibling in Academy, nodded and waved him off.

His first stop was the Ninth Division. Renji needed to tell Hisagi about the change in plans. He set out, passed the gates of the Sixth. The sun hid behind heavy gray clouds. A sharp, wet chill hung in the air, making Renji wish he still had that heavy travelling cloak Byakuya had loaned him for the trip to Hueco Mundo.

Ah, fuck, what had even happened to that thing? Renji hoped it wasn’t expensive. He had no memory of losing it, but he was fairly sure it’d never made its way back with him to the Seireitei. He shook his head at himself and flashed to the gates of the Ninth.

By chance, he appeared out of shunpo just as the barrel-chested, bare-armed, white-haired captain and the wiggly, chatty, green-haired lieutenant stepped out of the Ninth Division. Renji bowed, because: well, a captain, right? Something about this made the green-haired lieutenant laugh. She veered from her captain’s side to point rudely at Renji. “See,” she said as if continuing some previous conversation, “Not everyone hates us.”

Captain Muguruma snorted and gave Renji a very derisive looking over. Even though the captain was several inches shorter than Renji, he had the kind of massive presence that made him seem much bigger than he was. “He’s one of Ichigo’s friends. Of course he isn’t like the others!”

The tiny green-haired girl—there was something about her manner that made it hard for Renji to think of her as a ‘woman’ even though she hummed with reiatsu—put her hands on her hips and stuck out her lip. “Berry-tan’s friend? I thought Ichi-dope only had girlfriends.”

Muguruma grunted, staring down the road like this conversation was keeping him from something. “Remember this one was Urahara’s broom boy.”

“I was a lodger not a… whatever,” Renji protested because ‘broom boy’ sounded a lot like ‘rent boy’ to him. “I was paying my way with labor, sir.”

“Oh! It talks,” the green-haired girl said.

“Be nice,” Muguruma snarled. “He called me ‘sir.’ Frankly, that makes me take an instant shine to him.” The captain glared at the walls of his own division and shouted, “Unlike some knuckleheads around here!” Then to his lieutenant, he growled, “Stop dilly-dallying, Mashiro. You know I hate to be late!”

In a rolling wave of shouting, Muguruma and his lieutenant moved down the street. Their collective reiatsu and noise pushed people out of the way like a steamroller.

With a glance up at the gate guard, Renji asked, “Is it always like this around here?”

“No,” the man sighed, “It’s usually louder.”

“And more belligerent,” the other guard noted. “You looking for Lieutenant Hisagi, Renji?”

“Yeah, if he’s around,” Renji nodded. He squinted up into the darkened guard post, trying to see where he knew the other guard from. He didn’t recognize the person immediately, but a surprising number of people used his name familiarly. Renji blamed it on his tenure in the Eleventh. Once a year, during a time that some called ‘the Proving Season,’ the Eleventh became an open house to the Seireitei in order to always have at least two hundred witnesses in case the Kenpachi got challenged. Since most of the attempts to take down Kenpachi were fast and uninteresting, formal seat challenges took place at the same time. Tons of people treated it like a sporting event, and so Renji had seen people carrying banners and other items with his or Zabimaru’s name on them. Once your name was on a t-shirt, you were everybody’s best friend.

The guard waved him inside, “He should be in the office. If not, he’s in the print room.”

Ah, fuck, Renji’d never finished that damn article he owed for the Seireitei Communiqué. Well, there’d been a war; maybe that’d warrant an extension on the deadline. Renji nodded to the guard, “Thanks.”

Even though he’d been given permission, Renji felt a little weird poking around someone else’s division. He hadn’t been inside the walls much during Tōsen’s time as captain, but the returning captain’s personality seemed to have reclaimed itself quickly. As he passed the dojo, he saw people practicing with boxing equipment. In fact, Renji stopped to watch for a while, because, damn, that looked like a skill set he could use. Renji had always kind of been a brawler and this sort of thing would play to his strengths.

The Ninth division’s lieutenant’s office was more typical than Renji’s set up in the Sixth. It was a small, crowded room in the center of the barracks. The Ninth’s was on the ground floor, which was somewhat unusual, but Renji knew that was because it adjoined the space that held the printing press—a massive, heavy machine. When Renji stuck his head inside the open door, he expected to see a second desk shoved into some corner or other to accommodate the new co-lieutenant. But, the room hadn’t been altered since the last time Renji saw it. It was just Hisagi’s desk, piled high as usual with papers and odd assortments of printer’s blocks. The walls were lined with file cabinets. A few sheets of newsprint hung on drying racks. The place always smelled strongly of printing ink.

The rumbling, thunderous clacking told Renji that he’d have to go through to print room, if he wanted to talk to Hisagi. With a quiet ‘excuse me’ for invading Hisagi’s office without permission, Renji stepped through to the door, half-hidden along one wall. He stood in front of it for a moment, wondering as he often did, if the Ninth Division had been built up around the press or if someone had snuck it in, piece by piece. This nearly invisible door implied a potentially covert and subversive story, but Renji had never heard a whisper of it.

Besides, no offense to Hisagi’s hard work and all, but it wasn’t like the Seireitei Communiqué ever reported anything that would pass as real news. 

“I’m coming in,” Renji shouted, hoping he was loud enough to be heard over the press. 

Hisagi turned as the door opened and waved Renji inside. The printing press was hard to describe, though it always struck Renji as a huge, robotic, angry snake… that ate empty sheets of paper and shit out printed ones. The room was hot from whatever process was used to dry the papers before they came out, and Hisagi’s spiked hair looked slightly droopy and damp with sweat.

“Hey,” Renji said when he was sure he was close enough to be heard, “Can I talk to you for a second?”

Hisagi nodded. He adjusted something on the press and then waved Renji back through the side door to the office. He shut the door part way to block out some noise, but left it open enough to keep an eye on the beast. “What’s up?” he asked.

Renji jerked his thumb at the press. “Byakuya got his days ago, what’s this--a second run?”

“We sold out. Kyõraku’s romance was good this week, so…” Hisagi shrugged. “That’s not why you came all this way, is it? Because I can’t give you extra free copies just because we’re friends.”

“Nah, I’m all caught up, anyways,” Renji said with a smile. “It’s about the club thing. I decided a better present might be… um, well, me, wrapped up, and so, you know, I think I’m going to move to being more of a silent partner.”

“Because you’ve been so involved so far,” Hisagi pointed out sarcastically.

“Exactly,” Renji admitted with a little embarrassed tug on his ear. “I’m really sorry about this.”

Hisagi glanced at his machine, but said, “Don’t worry about it. This way Akon and I can take the time to really get things in order. It’s going to be cool. You’re going to wish you were part of it.”

Renji nodded. “No doubt. I can’t wait to check it out.”

Hisagi glanced back at Renji, looking him up and down for a long moment. “Did you say ‘wrap yourself up’?”

“Uh,” Renji’s face heated. “Did I?”

“I think you did,” Hisagi gave Renji a mischievously arched eyebrow. “So, you’re into… that?”

“He is, so I am,” Renji explained. To Hisagi’s skeptical look, Renji quickly added, “What I mean is, I wouldn’t have gotten into it on my own, but I like it. We have fun.”

“Cool,” Hisagi agreed. 

Renji noticed the collar Hisagi always wore and suddenly wondered if maybe he’d missed an opportunity to learn about this bondage stuff back in Academy. “You don’t happen to know a good kinbakushi, do you?”

Hisagi gave Renji a long look and then said, “As a matter of fact, I do.”

#

 

Which was how it was that Renji ended up wandering around the First District of the Rukongai hoping to stumble onto Kukaku Shiba’s house. 

Leaving behind the hovels of the Western District, Renji followed a dirt path that was little more than a deer trail through an empty field of tall, stiff grass. Without buildings to slow it down, the winter wind slashed like an icy blade through the thin layers of his shihakushō. Hunching his shoulders, Renji tucked his hands into the sleeves. If he didn’t find this stupid place soon, he was going to turn around.

When he’d asked the few people on the street that would dare talk to an armed shinigami, they all said, “You can’t miss it.”

Looking at the barren expanse of grass bending in the wind, Renji was beginning to wonder if he’d been snookered.

The thundering sound of hooves coming from behind, had Renji turning and drawing Zabimaru in a single move. A bevy of… pigs…? ...came screeching to a halt in front of him. Pigs. Yep, that’s what they were all right: giant hogs with riders astride them.

What the actual fuck.

Their leader, a guy that looked vaguely familiar, leaped off his pig. He had a broad face and body, dark hair that was mostly wrapped up in a bandana. He wore poofy pants, a similarly large sleeved shirt and a fur vest. With a smile of welcome and open arms, he boomed: “Lieutenant Abarai, we meet again!”

Had they met in the first place? Ah, fuck. Taking time to sheathe Zabimaru, Renji used the opportunity to study the face. Did he look a little like Ichigo’s dad, the former captain Shiba? If that was the case, then this had to be the cousin… the one that had torn through the Seireitei with Ichigo and his gang. The one Yumichika hated… with the weird magic…. Gandalf? 

“Ganju!” Renji said as it came to him. “Shiba. Dude, I was just looking for your sister.”

Ganju wrapped Renji in an awkward hug, like they were actual friends. Renji patted his back, because it seemed rude not to. When Ganju stepped away he crossed his arms in front of his barrel chest and said, “Nobody sees nee-sama without approval. Especially not a shinigami on Gotei business.”

“Right, well, this ain’t Gotei business,” Renji said. Wrapping an arm around Ganju’s shoulder, Renji turned them from the prying eyes of the rest of Ganju’s… gang. They were a sorry lot, the four of them, but Renji didn’t need his business spread around the Rukongai. He dropped his voice conspiratorially. “It’s private. I hear she’s the best kinbaku artist in the Soul Society and I want to hire her.”

“Oh!” Ganju gave Renji a very curious look up and down and his cheeks instantly bloomed a deep red blush. “I… don’t… that is, that’s nee-sama’s business.”

“Right,” Renji said, trying to keep the exasperation out of his voice, “which is why I’m trying to find her.”

“No way she’ll show her house to you, no matter what your business,” Ganju said, shaking off Renji’s arm. 

“Look, I can pay,” Renji lied. “Food. Ken. Just tell me what she wants.”

Ganju considered it, clearly pleased to have the upper hand in a negotiation. Renji waited out his long, smug show. The wind ripped past them, tugging at hem and topknot. Fuck if Renji was going to beg this penny ante thug and his ridiculous pig riding gang. 

Finally twigging to the fact that this was the most he was going to get out of Renji, Ganju said: “Come to the ‘Bitter End’ tonight. If she wants your business, she’ll be there at eight o’clock. If she’s not there, you’re out of luck.”

Renji didn’t entirely trust that Ganju had that kind of power to negotiate on behalf of his sister, but he believed Ganju was telling the truth when he said Kukaku would never reveal her house to a uniformed shinigami. So, he didn’t figure he had much other choice. “Deal.”

#

It just so happened that when Renji passed through the gate back into the Seireitei, he saw another familiar face. It was the teamster, recognizable from his brawl flattened nose and the scar on his chin… and a whole lot of Kuchiki bodyguards carrying what looked like traveling trunks. Only the teamster had no horse or wagon. 

“Oi,” Renji shouted a bodyguard he recognized. Rafu? “What’s going on here?”

Hearing his voice, the teamster turned, eyes red and hard. Breaking from his guard, he took a swing that Renji deftly dodged. “Your fault. Why fuck did you go crying to your boyfriend? Can’t you fight your own fights?”

“The fuck you talking about?” Renji demanded, catching the teamster’s second blow in his hand.

“He’s been banished,” one of the bodyguards said, coming up to take hold of the teamster’s arm. It took two of them to pull him back.

“For what?” Renji wanted to know.

“For mouthing off to you, apparently,” the teamster all but sobbed. “My life has been ruined.”

“Wait, no.” Renji said, “Countermand that order.”

The bodyguards holding the teamster gave each other a look. The one Renji knew, Rafu, said, “I don’t think we can do that, sir. We’re not under your command. We belong to the estate.”

Renji took a step forward and let his hand drop to Zabimaru. “Then I’m a thief and I’ll take this guy off you by force.”

“Uh,” Rafu lifted his hands up and gave a look to the other guy to do the same. “Or we could just say you did?”

Renji nodded. “That's right. Or we could just say I did.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks go to Josey, of course. Even though I'm still a bit distracted by the coffee shop AU, I promise I'll be back with a new installment soon!


End file.
